


The Past Catches On

by Autumn_Llleaves



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Original Character(s), Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-03 01:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11521857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumn_Llleaves/pseuds/Autumn_Llleaves
Summary: For Ginny Weasley, the summer holidays after the first year are anything but enjoyable. She still fears that she might have some Dark magic left in her. Moreover, she begins to feel uncomfortable around the family rat.





	1. Prologue. The Fear

**Author's Note:**

> It started as a vague idea for a fanfic with Ginny Weasley as a central sympathetic character. I can hardly believe it ended up like it did. Be warned, the first chapter already can be pretty nauseating.

Ginny Weasley was afraid. 

She tried to be rational. Even if she  _had_ once accidentally stumbled upon a diary of You-Know-Who (and Ron hinted that Harry hinted that it wasn't so accidental), it's not like Dark magic was lurking behind every corner. It's not something that happens to you several times in a row. Harry Potter was sure  _he_ attracted danger – but he, poor boy, was especially hated by You-Know-Who's followers for bringing the latter down. What special thing had she done, then, to attract Dark magic? She was nobody. Her parents hadn't even particularly fought in the war. Her dad was a minor official. 

_Calm down. It can't be Dark magic. It's been in the house for twelve years, and no one has died yet._

But her mental sarcasm did nothing to reassure her. 

She was frightened of _Scabbers_. The mere thought of it would have made her laugh only several months ago. Scabbers! Really! The sleepiest, shabbiest, and most harmless creature on the planet! Alright, correction here: Ron said he had bitten Goyle once. But the rat had never harmed anyone of their own family. 

It's just that he seemed to have taken a sudden liking to her. Disturbingly, it began almost after her return from Hogwarts – after her secret about the diary was revealed to her family. 

Scabbers took to visiting her room and allowed her to feed him. More often than not, she found him on her shoulder when she woke up in the morning. He hadn't displayed such affection to anyone but Percy and Ron, his previous and his current owners!

Ron was jealous, by the way. Scabbers was his pet, of course he was jealous. He thought Ginny was feeding Scabbers to make him her familiar, now that she was at Hogwarts too. She protested there was nothing of the kind. 

…Was it a mere coincidence that this rush of affection began in the end of June? What if there was something magical in the rat? What if… no, please, no… what if there was something Dark, something You-Know-Who-ish left in her soul and the rat sensed it? The rats were always believed to have a Dark side to them, even non-magical rats… What if?..

 _Stop, Ginevra Weasley, stop now. Scabbers and Dark magic? It's like Ron and Potions or Percy and Quidditch or the twins and discipline or Errol and Owl Races. If the rat had gone suddenly aggressive, then it would have been a case for worry. He might have had rabies or something like that. But why in the world are you nervous_ now _? Just because of your family pet of twelve years?_

But she was nervous. She didn't know why. She couldn't help it. 

She wanted to confide in someone, would have done so, had it not been so utterly laughable. She could just imagine herself saying it. _Mom, Dad, I'm afraid of Scabbers_. Ha, ha, ha. 

There were two people she knew who could really deal with Dark magic, if there was any involved. Professor Dumbledore and Harry Potter. But Dumbledore of course won't take her seriously, while Harry… _he heard the basilisk's voice and no one took him seriously either and then it turned out he had been right all along…_ No way. There was no way she would present herself weaker than she already was. In front of _Harry_. Oh, how she hated it, the fact that he viewed her, and rightly so, as a gullible fool who succumbed to You-Know-Who's influence! How she wished she could be like Hermione, his best friend – clever and composed and never failing in anything! No, she wouldn't tell Harry she was afraid of a rat. Besides – how could she forget? – Harry slept in the same dorm as Ron. If anything had been wrong with Scabbers, Harry would have noticed first hand. 

And then, she started to have disturbing dreams. Dreams where someone pressed her onto the bed and touched her body with slippery hands and lips, and she was paralyzed and unable to fight. Once she woke up in the middle of the night, dead certain there was an intruder in the house, but there was no man in her room, none at all. Only the ghoul thumped occasionally upstairs and Scabbers squeakily snorted in the corner. 

_Am I going mad? Is it… is it the Dark Side scaring me?_

In the end of the previous term, she had been happy to return home and had been dreading the next year at Hogwarts. Even though Dumbledore assured her that the full details of the Chamber of Secrets mystery would remain secret, she was fearful everyone would find out and scorn her (at the very, very least). _Look at her, that's the girl who set out the basilisk!_ But now it dawned on her she would very much prefer that. A danger that was certain and perfectly understandable seemed a welcome change from this shadowy and most probably groundless paranoia. Also, there were her brothers and (hopefully, hopefully) Harry – they'll stand by her. She would be able to tell them about the taunts and scorn and hatred of her schoolmates – but she couldn't bring herself to tell them of all _this_. 

At last, there came the end of August and the first of September. Harry's embarrassed handshake in Diagon Alley, the usual school shopping, the journey on board of the Hogwarts Express. The latter, as it turned out, had another shock in store for her. Because of Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban, dementors were sent to Hogwarts, and they attempted to patrol the train. Ginny had heard of them before, but talk and gossip described a mere shade of what the inhuman guards were really like. She would never forget it – the dark figure entering the compartment, and suddenly everything from the last year springing up alive again, only twice as terrifying. 

Tom Riddle in his human form, baring his teeth in what was meant to be a smile but rather made him look like a hungry vampire. _Go down, until you reach the Chamber. Now._ She was powerless to protest, she had no will of hers left, all her will was given to that mysterious stranger from the diary… But this time, somehow, there was no Harry to come and save her…

The summer nightmares. All of a sudden more real than ever. The same sense of helplessness. Dull stabs between the legs. Someone's hair falling on her face – and her eyes unable to open, as if glued together. A rough hand on her barely grown breasts, followed by a breathless murmur – she didn't know if it was meant for her to hear. _Damn, I should control myself. If they see marks, my goose is cooked._ Ginny opened her mouth to cry for help, but it was immediately covered by someone's hand. _Be quiet, girl, or I'll use Silencio._ This time, it all went on and she couldn't wake up. 

Suddenly, a bright blue light burst through the darkness, and with a start Ginny was brought back to the compartment. Her friends were all half-lying on the benches, pale with terror, and some thin man was standing at the door with his wand raised. At first Ginny thought he was very old, but she quickly realized he couldn't be a day more than forty – the tired look and the graying hair added to the illusion of age.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'On behalf of the school. Dementors took their job too seriously and decided to search the train for Sirius Black… Now, it must have been dreadful for you all, and I suggest you eat these,' and, to Ginny's amazement, he handed out four large slabs of simple milk chocolate. 'By the way, I'm your new Defense teacher, Professor Lupin.'

The chocolate had cheered Ginny up extraordinarily by the time the train stopped at Hogsmeade. The arrival was similar to last year: the greeting smiles of Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, the cheers of her fellow students, the welcoming feast – all wiping her bad memories and dreams away. She was even glad to see Draco Malfoy's familiar mocking smirk and Professor Snape's ever-present scowl, she nearly clapped her hands when Peeves threw a piece of chalk at her.

How happy she was to finally find herself in her Hogwarts dorm! Anne Arrington, Flavia Lindrane and Rose Johnson, the girls who shared it, were perfectly friendly and compassionate, obviously unaware of her true role in the events of last year. Ginny immediately felt guilty for doubting the Headmaster's word. 

And then, as they were going off to sleep, she felt the food she had eaten at the welcoming feast coming up her throat. 


	2. The Discovery

'Three weeks pregnant,' Madam Pomfrey announced with certainty, her face wax white. 'Minerva, how do we tell the girl?'

The girl in question was asleep in the hospital bed, lulled to sleep by a sedative potion and certain that she had only had a bad case of overeating.

' _That's_ what's worrying you?' snapped Minerva McGonagall. Her usually calm posture was shaky. 'My first concern is who did it to her! Arthur and Molly hadn't sent a word about anything!'

'They might not know. Merlin's eyes… I mean, she's hardly bloody twelve years old! It's not like they let her out to any fucking youth parties!'

Professor McGonagall swallowed. In any other case, she would have scolded the nurse for language, but right now she was extremely tempted to use some herself, just to let out the shock. A pregnant girl barely into her second year! Why, her courses only started in May! Even in the Middle Ages no such thing had been recorded at Hogwarts. Fourth years, fifth years and older in arranged marriages – now that was common practice back then. Back then!

The Head of Gryffindor stared at Ginny. Hadn't the poor child suffered enough?

If it had been three months instead of three weeks, Minerva would have suspected the almost-fully-corporeal Riddle… shudder… having his way with Ginny. But Poppy's diagnostics were secure. And all of them – all – definitely showed three weeks. Tom Riddle had dissolved into nothingness more than a month earlier.

Minerva felt cold sweat forming on her forehead. The only males Ginny had been in close contact with during the holidays were her father and her brothers. And Harry Potter – but they met later than three weeks ago. Molly watched over her daughter like a hawk – especially after last year – she wouldn't have let anyone else come closer. Did it mean… could it mean…

Maybe it was some mistake. One of the twins' jokes gone awry. Perhaps they whipped up a Love Potion, and some Forgetfulness Potion, and they accidentally drank it… No. Too much of a coincidence. She felt sick even to think of it. No. Even if they managed a vial of Amortentia Major… no, it wouldn't have happened. They would have had enough reason left to realize what was the matter with them. They wouldn't have harmed their little sister. Even should they swallow a whole cupboard of potions.

Goodness, she _was_ sick!

'Poppy, Poppy. We need to find the father. I'm going to Avada him myself should I even get a life in Azkaban afterwards. And before that, I'll Crucio him personally. Seven times. Find him.'

'That's what I'm trying to do now,' the nurse said, regaining some of her composure. 'But it's too early. It's still vague.'

'Can you at least tell if it's…' gulp, 'a Weasley?'

'N-no,' said Poppy. 'We'll have to question the lot.'

Minerva froze. She imagined Aurors opening the case. The humiliation for the Weasley family! The shock for the children! Dumbledore will have to use all in his power to keep the story as low as possible.

'Who could it be, if not one… one of the family?' whispered Poppy.

'I can hardly understand. The Burrow isn't the Ministry, but it's well-protected enough to alarm the people in case of someone breaking in. Maybe… maybe some school friend visited them after the return from Egypt? I hope it would be so.'

'You do?'

'As a matter of fact, yes,' sighed Minerva. 'I hope to find out she had done it with some classmate of hers just to experiment, to see how grownups do it. I've heard of things like that. It would be much less horrible than if we find out it was… an adult.'

She walked to her office, threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and said 'The Burrow!' This was too serious a matter, to say the least, to be handled via owl post.

* * *

Peter Pettigrew carefully sunk his small but sharp enough claws into his own paw. He had to act fast if he didn't want to find himself in Azkaban tomorrow, if not earlier. 

A few minutes ago, Ron had burst in with the news that his sister had been sick several times today and was now off to see Madam Pomfrey. Of course, it _could_ be a usual case of poisoning (with the amount of sweets kids ate on the first of September, it was a wonder they didn't all land in the hospital wing – Peter himself had suffered from stomachache several times in the beginning of turn). It could be – but he had a strong suspicion it wasn't. 

He knew it had been pretty careless of him, but the girl's budding womanhood had been too inviting to resist. At first he was only going to do it once: he hadn't been with a woman at all for twelve years, and he had never mated with female rats, even when he actually encountered any. Besides, there are only so many years a human can spend in his Animagus form without changing. 

And it's not like Ginny didn't enjoy it. If she hadn't, she surely would have told someone about her "dreams" (two drops of Molly Weasley's stabilizing potion that she used daily in her chores, while perfectly harmless, could keep one's eyelids sealed for about an hour, which was all Peter needed). 

Only two months, he reasoned. Two months, and then he'll go back to being a good pet of Ron's and sleep and eat most of the time. 

He really hadn't planned it. He really hadn't. He hadn't wanted to play the Weasleys against him – they could grow suspicious or plainly throw him into the streets. But in the first week after they returned from Hogwarts, he saw Ginny going to sleep in her old nightdress, which was a bit small for her and showed very well how the kid was now developing into a grown girl. And then he couldn't help but wonder if her neck was as soft to the touch as it looked. And then it just happened. It wasn't like it was his fault. Luckily for him, she turned out to be of the type that didn't bleed. There was no evidence to show it was him – to show anything at all had happened. 

But now, if she was indeed pregnant, things would really get dangerous. They'd detain and question every male creature who had come within a hundred miles of Ginny, and one day someone with too many brains for the others' good – probably Dumbledore or Snivellus or McGonagall or perhaps Flitwick – would think of checking the familiars as well. He'd be done for. 

He rubbed the blanket with his wounded paw until there was sufficient amount of blood and fur. It was another stroke of luck that the Granger girl had brought an awful half-kneazle this year, who was constantly snapping his teeth at Pettigrew. There were red hairs wherever the beast went – put a couple with the blood and the case will be clear. For Ron, at least. 

He felt somewhat sad, leaving this stage of his life. After all, if you live with people for twelve years, you can't help growing a bit attached to them. Sometimes he liked to pretend everything before the Weasleys had never happened – he had never been a Marauder, had never been Secret-Keeper for the Potters (how couldn't Sirius understand? It's not like he should be judged for revealing things to the Dark Lord! The Dark Lord would have killed him otherwise!). But with Sirius on the loose and Ginny carrying his child, he'd better not take risks. 

'I mean, how was I _supposed_ to know she'll get knocked up?' he murmured angrily to himself, arranging the red cat hairs neatly on the blanket. 'She was too small! She shouldn't have been able to! Besides, she _liked_ it!'

Unfortunately, he knew very well that the Aurors wouldn't listen to reason. 

Now he'd go and pretend his life with the Weasleys had never happened either. It was much better this way. Forgetting the bad things in your past. It was really a pity others couldn't do the same. Sirius, for example, was fine with killing him just because he, Peter, had been frightened to death by the Dark Lord. Killing him, as plain as that! As if the years of friendship didn't matter!

Sneaking out of the window, Peter really hoped for one thing: that the child, should it be kept, would get the Weasley looks. Red hair is always most likely to get inherited, isn't it? If it had red hair, all would be fine. Even if it was plump, everyone would think it took after Molly. 

The only danger was that against all odds the kid would be pale and gray-eyed and fair-haired _and_ plump. People would be getting all sorts of ideas.

* * *

'She's _what_?' bellowed Arthur Weasley. 

'We've just had her examined. Three weeks, Poppy says.'

'Three w… but we were already ba…' stammered Molly. She stumbled and sank into the armchair, breathing heavily. 

'If it's your idea of a joke, I'll Avada both you and your sorry excuse of a nurse and…' Arthur was getting louder and louder. The ghoul took it as a cue to thump louder than ever, to the point that the whole Burrow was shaking. 

'Stop it!' Molly gasped. 'Minerva – please – are you completely sure?'

'Do you think I would have come to you in the middle of the night if I hadn't been sure? She's now in the hospital wing; she doesn't know yet, thinks it was all plain poisoning from all these sweets.'

'Oh, Ginny…' now Mrs. Weasley looked almost catatonic. 'Oh, Ginny… To think of it… To be introduced to being a mother in such a way… Ginny… How's it possible…'

'That's what we have to find out as quickly as we can,' said Minerva. 'I want you to write the permission for the Aurors to open a case.'

'The Aurors?' cried Arthur. 'Hasn't Ginny been through enough already?'

He was echoing Minerva's own thoughts, and it was disconcerting. Worse, she had to disagree with him. 

'Arthur, as Molly says, you have already returned from Egypt to the Burrow by the time three weeks ago. If we need to find the scoundrel who did it, we need an open case. We can't go on spraying every man we meet with Veritaserum. But… well… do you have a suspicion? Any suspicions?'

'None at all,' the man whispered, clutching the armchair's handle. His mind was obviously jumping to his own sons. _If it hasn't been him in fact…_ Minerva had to choke down the vomit. She had seen the wizarding war. She had seen victims of Cruciatus and Sectumsempra. But there were some things that she couldn't bear calmly. 

'Three weeks ago, did anyone come to the Burrow?'

'N-n-no,' Molly sobbed. 'We were alone – the seven of us. Just arrived from Egypt. Charlie flew from there directly to Romania.'

'Could someone sneak into here?'

'We have wards to detect anything stronger than a garden gnome that would try to come uninvited,' Arthur shook his head. 'It appears… it appears…'

Both of them had blood drained from their faces as they gave each other looks of horrified realization. One of them. One of their own household. One of the Weasleys, the clan known for its strong ties and family love. 

'Take me to Ginny,' Molly demanded in a voice that hardly sounded like her. 'Please, take me to Ginny. I want her – I want her to learn it from me.'

'I'll come too. I'll owl the Aurors from Hogwarts just as well.'

He was shaking, his usually good-natured face contorted. _No, it couldn't have been him,_ Minerva reasoned. _He agreed to summon the Aurors quite quickly._

Then who was it? Percy? The twins? Ron? As mental images flashed through Minerva's head, she bent over the carpet and finally let it all out. 

' _Ev-v-vanesco,_ ' said Molly, but her stammer didn't help things. After several attempts, they managed to clean the carpet and Flooed back to the school without saying another word. 

The first thing they saw in the corridor on their way to the hospital wing was a red cat running for his life from an enraged Ron Weasley. 

'I'll kill you, you monstrous beast!' Ron shrieked. 'I'll kill… ouch!'

He stopped and curled in fright. He had collided with Professor McGonagall. Who had his parents by her side.

'Er. Sorry, Professor. I know it's after curfew, but this awful cat has eaten Scabbers! I only found some blood and cat hairs… Mom, Dad, the cat ate Scabbers!'

'RON!' Mrs. Weasley shouted. It echoed it the corridors. 'Ron, Ginny's sick!'

'Pr… obably cursed!' added Mr. Weasley, coughing mid-phrase. 

Ron forgot the cat in an instant:

'What? Why… I mean, she said she just ate too much…'

'It may be more serious than that, Ron. We've come to check on her.'

'Oh, Mom – can I go too?'

Professor McGonagall answered instead:

'No, Weasley, your sister's condition, though bad enough, is not life-threatening or even critical. She surely won't get better from a whole crowd around her. You can come to her tomorrow if Madam Pomfrey allows.'

Ron went back to his dorm, downcast and very silent.

 _Him?_ a taunting voice kept asking in Minerva McGonagall's mind. _What if it's him?_


	3. The Shield

Ginny was resigned to having these dreams even here. When Madam Pomfrey fed her the potion, she closed her eyes and mentally braced herself. Now the sweaty hands will be gripping at her again, and needle-sharp teeth will graze at her cheeks, and there’ll be a feeling of intrusion between her legs and the sound of heavy breathing above her… And, of course, when she wakes up, she’ll be perfectly alone.

_Perhaps I deserve it. For what I did last year. Maybe all Death Eaters get such dreams._

Surprisingly, though, the sleep was quite dreamless – even though the potion was a milder one than the actual Dreamless Sleep. And upon waking up, Ginny suddenly looked in the faces of not only Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, but also Mom and Dad, and – oh! – Professor Dumbledore.

‘Wha… what?’ she looked at them, still confused. Was it something she had done? Mom and Dad’s faces were so grave, she hadn’t seen them that grave even last spring. But it was only the first – no, second day of school – what had happened?

‘Ginny, dear,’ started Mom. Her voice sounded odd, rather pressed down, if it could be said of a voice. ‘Oh, Ginny. We need to talk to you. Very seriously.’

 _The Dark Side!_ was Ginny’s first thought. _There’s something of the Dark Side left in me! Just as I thought! Oh, how will I look the boys and Harry in the face?_

‘I assure you that we will not say a word to anyone about what we will talk about,’ said Professor Dumbledore gently. ‘But I would advise you, Ginny, to keep it a secret on your side as well.’

This was really alarming. If it had been a misbehavior of hers, the Headmaster would have sounded disappointed or, who knows, maybe even really angry. If something had happened _to_ her, if she had fallen sick, he would have been deliberately merry and cheerful and offering sweets… there was a school joke that you got better in the hospital wing for fear of a) Pomfrey’s medicines and b) Dumbledore’s sweets… unless, of course, it was so serious that the Headmaster couldn’t pretend to be cheerful.

‘Yes, sir – er – what’s the matter?’

Mom gave a deep, almost painful sigh.

‘Ginny. Do you remember how we told you about where children come from?’

‘Well, sure,’ she wasn’t sure at all, in fact. Why the abrupt change of the subject? And in front of the professors, too! Mom herself had strictly said that one didn’t go around talking about making babies with anyone but the closest family and sometimes the doctors. ‘You told me that when a man and a woman are married and love each other very much and cuddle and hug in a special way, they make a child and it grows for nine months inside the woman’s stomach.’

‘On the whole, right. Now, this is the serious part, and I want you to be completely honest. Did you ever try making children with anyone?’

‘Me?’ Ginny stared at her. ‘Mom, what do you mean? I’m not a grownup yet, am I?’

‘Well. You must have forgotten that part. You see, not just grownup ladies can have children. When a girl gets her monthly blood, it means she can have them already.’

‘It’s not even _monthly_ yet,’ Ginny protested. ‘You said the periods in-between can be different in length at first. I calculated it would start exactly in the beginning of term but it didn’t.’

Dad coughed. Mom gave a small gasp. The professors and Madam Pomfrey didn’t move, but Ginny saw Professor McGonagall’s eyes flashing green – as usually happened when she was angry. What was that for? Anyway, why did five clever wizards suddenly forget how children are made and why were they gathered, so upset and agitated, around her?

‘Whatever, Mom, I’m not married! I haven’t cuddled anyone in any special way,’ she continued. ‘And I don’t want to have babies until I’m married, you know!’

‘Please listen, Ginny,’ for some reason Mom was getting more and more frightened. ‘About three weeks ago, where have you been?’

‘Mom, what’s the matter? Home, with you!’

‘Have you met any strange man or boy?’

‘No, not at all. You remember it, please, Mom – I sat in the garden all the time because it was so cool and shadowy there and such a change after Giza.’

‘Have you…’ Mom swallowed and didn’t finish. ‘Have the boys… Can you say…’

Her eyes filled with tears. Now Ginny was really frightened:

‘Mom! Mom! What’s happening?’

‘Have the boys played any… _new_ games with you?’ Dad came to help.

‘Fred and George invented one, I think,’ said Ginny (there was a sharp intake of breath from all the adults). ‘Gobstones on Broomsticks. But I didn’t play, I have enough of their Gobstones on the ground!’

Everyone breathed out.

‘Did any of us act strange?’ Mom whispered.

‘Mom, today you’re acting strange. Before that – no.’

‘Thing is, my dear… my poor dear…’ with alarm Ginny noticed that her mother was fighting back tears. ‘The thing is… somehow… you are pregnant. You have a baby growing inside of you. For three weeks now.’

_What?.._

_No, it can’t be._

_Mom’s playing a joke._

_But she never plays jokes when crying._

With a jolt, Ginny suddenly understood. Was this horrible thing she endured in her dreams that “special way of cuddling”? Merlin’s hat, it wasn’t the tiniest bit like the cuddles and hugs from her family. Anyway, it had been nothing but dreams! Even with her vague knowledge of reproduction, Ginny knew you couldn’t get a baby after a dream!

The world swam around her, and all was black.

* * *

Ron spent a sleepless night, and was sometimes sorely tempted to spit on the rules and go to the hospital wing. Ginny – sick. Probably _cursed._ What could be worse than her idiotic decision to trust Riddle’s diary? She seemed quite all right during the feast…

Well, she had been pallid and quiet all summer, but it was the after-effect of her time in the Chamber of Secrets. Nobody would have been running and cheering if their life force had been nearly sucked out of them! Furthermore, as the start of term came closer, Ginny gradually too returned to almost normal. Everyone had been so pleased.

He was desperately struggling with guilt. Something very bad had happened to little sister – and he had overlooked it. Swallowed the notion about food poisoning. This only a couple of months after he swore to himself he’d watch over her.

The duty was naturally primarily his. Bill and Charlie were away, Percy hardly noticed anything beyond his badge, Fred and George were, to put it mildly, not too serious, and Mom and Dad had a hard time watching over them all. That left him – and his age was closest to Ginny’s, too.

He stretched out his hand. It touched an empty blanket, and Ron gritted his teeth. Another creature entrusted to him that he had failed to protect. Scabbers, poor, old, faithful Scabbers, was eaten by that cat of Hermione’s. In his anxiety about Ginny Ron forgot to go properly mad at his friend and her terrifying red beast, but now it hurt a lot not to feel the familiar furry back and hear the sleepy squeaking.

_They have an Owlery in the castle. Why not a Catery, too? I mean, even the letter says, “bring an owl or a cat or a toad”. They should take precautions if they allow cats inside!_

His hand caught on something soft and sticky. It was the piece of fudge he had automatically placed there for Scabbers in the evening.

Ron couldn’t help it anymore. First Scabbers and now Ginny, for one day it was too much. He turned to the wall, just in case one of the boys woke up and noticed, and silently cried into the pillow.

McGonagall said – of course she would! – that Ginny wasn’t in any great danger, but then she wouldn’t want him panicking and rousing the whole dorm. Dad, on the other hand, let it slip exactly how serious it was. Unlike Hermione, Ron hardly knew anything definite on curses, but he knew enough to realize: even with the lightest ones, a person was in grave peril.

_Who could have cursed her?_

It wasn’t too hard to figure out. If she was cursed (and if Dad said “probably”, then it was ninety-nine percent), then this diary Voldemort, this Riddle, must have left some lasting imprint. Who else?

Ron groaned. He _should_ have noticed! Memories sprang to his mind – many occasions he had believed trifles… Several times over the summer, Ginny reached out to him – as if wishing to tell him something – and then shrank back, as if embarrassed. She must have been feeling unwell already! He should have listened to her! Something could have been done earlier!

Now, however, he could do nothing but stay and watch. Riddle was long gone, and Ron knew he himself could hardly help Madam Pomfrey and the professors handling Ginny’s curse.

_I haven’t noticed what goes on with my own sister…_

He glanced at Harry Potter, sleeping peacefully on the other side of the room. Harry could easily jump headfirst into a new adventure, he could get fully absorbed in the mystery of the Philosopher’s Stone or the Horror of Slytherin… but Harry had no family to speak of (the Muggles he lived with couldn’t possibly be called a true family). Ron nearly always accompanied him on the adventures, it was thrilling to do brave and daring things and overcome evil powers, but it seemed that he had been forgetting that besides his best friend, he also had a family.

_How’s Ginny? What if she’s comatose again like in the Chamber of Secrets?_

The sky slowly turned to grey. Ron felt sick with himself, and his eyelids were heavy, but he knew he wouldn’t be able sleep a wink.

His fingers caught on the fudge again, and he ate it – not because he wanted, just to get rid of the stickiness. The fudge was already tasteless after lying on the bedsheet for so long. _If Scabbers had been here_ …

Another pang of guilt. Ron remembered how he always complained about the rat and called him boring and useless, but whenever he was upset or worried or plainly miserable, he would always stroke the soft fur and hear Scabbers squeak affectionately, as if he understood him. And his spirits would rise.

The bell rang, signaling the start of the day.

* * *

Ginny blinked and stared at Professor Dumbledore. There was obviously something wrong with her – she felt depressed and ill – but why would he want to learn the reason from _her_?

‘The Aurors have given permission and your parents have agreed, since you’re a minor, but I want you to agree too,’ said the headmaster.

The Aurors? What was all the fuss about? Ginny only knew that she woke up in the hospital wing, and for some reasons her parents and half of the school staff was standing over her with very grim faces.

Well, Professor Dumbledore should know. She did feel bad.

‘Of course, sir,’ she nodded.

‘Look straight at me.’

She felt a small headache as his eyes intently looked into hers. She had heard about this thing – it was called Legi-something, mind-reading of sorts – and Dad had once mentioned that Dumbledore’s good at it.

Flashes of the past came and went – Professor Lupin handing out chocolates – Hogwarts Express – Diagon Alley…

Suddenly, something stung her sharply, like a very vicious bee inside her mind. Another picture was struggling to get remembered. But she didn’t want herself to remember. There was pain. Pain and helplessness and humiliation. No, no, no, no.

Egypt. Pyramids. Large yellow blocks, dozens, hundreds, thousands… One block, two blocks… She began to count them.

The image could still appear. It was terrible. She didn’t want to endure it again.

Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, _twenty_ … The blocks shuddered and buzzed, and it seemed like a reanimated mummy was bursting through them. Only it wasn’t, she knew, living mummies were the same sort of tall tale villains as sheet-like ghosts… There was something more terrible… Thirty-three, thirty-four blocks, thirty-five, _thirty-six, THIRTY-SEVEN…_

Dumbledore broke the eye contact. Ginny caught her breath and fell on the pillows. She felt rather like a jellyfish on a beach.

‘It would be against all human decency to torment the girl even more,’ said the headmaster, looking exhausted. ‘She had constructed a mental shield, subconsciously, as a result of the shock. I have tried to break it, but it wouldn’t go. Naturally, if I used more energy, it would have given way… but, quite possibly, at the cost of Miss Weasley’s sanity.’

‘G-Ginny?’ her mother whispered, crestfallen, handing her a glass of water. ‘What do you remember last, before falling… er… asleep?’

‘There was a feast, and then I was sick, and then…’ Certainly the mind-reading helped sort her hazy memories. ‘Oh! Mom, you told me… you told me a child was growing inside me! But it’s not possible, is it? Professor Dumbledore, tell Mom it’s not possible.’

‘It is, unfortunately,’ he said.

‘But how? I’m not grown and not married.’

The painful thing that had struggled to be let out during the mind-reading had now subsided completely.

‘The Aurors, it seems, are due to find out,’ Dad said. He was dreadfully angry. Ginny was frightened – he had never been this angry before.

Madam Pomfrey appeared with another set of calming mixtures, and soon Ginny sank back into an untroubled sleep. But even as her eyelids closed, she could hear, for a long time, the adults arguing loudly and with an odd mix of rage and despair.


End file.
